A Poem By Jim Murdoch
HANDS
Even when we forget,
our hands remember
everyone we have touched
and how. How we held them
then how we pushed them
away even as our
grasp tightened then how we
turned those selfsame hands
on ourselves in the end.
It might surprise you just
how much emptiness
our hands can hold.
from right hand pointing
thanks to Poethound for the link
posted by RC @ 1:00 PM
2 Comments:
Thanks for highlighting this one, Reyes. I just read it over again and it still pleases me. What's interesting is that the poem is a rewrite. I submitted it to a magazine and the editor pointed out how the piece could be misread and so I reworked it and in the process improved upon it. She still never took the revised piece mind but you can't keep a good poem down.
Yes,Jim,it's a great little poem.Depicting the hands in their greatness really,almost as if they were a separate organ,our heart,ears and eyes.
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